Seven Days
by spookie nights
Summary: He takes refuge from rain in her bookstore. They talk about books, childhood, dreams, perception, love, magic, travel, connection between two people and them. They meet on seven different days and talk about, well, basically everything. Bella/Edward story
1. Moonday

_On Moonday, the king of Dreams gave an audience to five small children, who had traveled a long way seeking their lost mother. He met them in a hall filled with scarecrows, who whispered among themselves in the voices of the stars of the silent screen. – Neil Gaiman, The Kindly Ones, Chapter 8 (Issue #64)_

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_**Monday**

She was taking an inventory of latest dispatch to her book store when she heard a soft rap on the door. It was a dreary Monday evening, complete with unexpected autumn showers lessening the in flow of customers. It had given her time to catch up on inventory and go through the accounts for past months in detail. She co-owned this quaint little book store which had a touch of old-fashioned library to it. Any book lover would immediately fall in love with the store; at least that's what she always thought.

"We are closed", she yelled. The book store closed at eight everyday and it was already few minutes past the deadline.

After a few moments, there was another rap on the door. Only this time, it was a little urgent. For a minute, she contemplated on calling cops. It was late in evening with very little traffic outside and someone was knocking on the doors even when there was a predominant "CLOSED" sign was on display. She rolled her eyes at her own paranoia and decided to check it out. Through the glass, she could see a man, perhaps in same age group as hers – mid-twenties, had traces of rain drops in his hair and had was intently looking at the sky, watching the lazy drizzle. As she opened the door, he turned his head to her and gave her a tentative smile. The first thing she observed about him was his eyes. It was dark green, like the color of a young leaf in deep parts of the forest which is untouched by civilization. It reminded her about –

"Harry Potter" She wasn't aware that she had said that out loud. When he replied, his tone was full of amusement.

"Damn. I really thought I hid my scar well." She chuckled.

"Can I help you?" There was something intriguing about the man who stood outside her door. She was drawn to the intensity of his eyes, which looked as if they held a million secrets. His gaze on her was strong and unwavering.

"I need a book and shelter for a while from this rain." He told her honestly. She looked around the street to see couple of cafes open and bursting with people taking a refuge from the rain.

"It's too loud in there; not to mention there are too many people absorbed in their own little world to talk about anything else." He added.

"So, you prefer a book store with absolutely no one except for me that is, over a café full of people and warm food?"

"Always" The certainty in which he said the word made her move out of the doorway and fully opened the door for him to enter. He gave her a thankful smile.

"Are you looking for something specific?" She asked him as he took off his coat to hang.

"I would like to look around, if that's OK." She nodded. Once he disappeared behind racks of books, she shook her head to clear invisible cobwebs and started to arrange books from the latest dispatch. After nearly thirty minutes, she walked with a bunch of children's books to place them in their own shelf. She saw him sitting on a small stool which was hardly a feet tall at the end of the aisle where she kept books for children. As she neared him, he looked up from the book he was reading and gave her a tiny smile.

"Interesting read?" She questioned him as she arranged books in their designated places.

"_Charlotte's web _is my all time favorite children's novel. It's been a while since I read it though. I lost my copy of this book over the years of moving across towns. I don't know why but I never felt like picking up a new one." There was a hint of nostalgia in his voice. She could understand that to an extent. She sighed and took a place across him on the floor. She was attracted to the kinship of his company.

"I was six when it was read to me for the first time. The whole idea of a spider writing words from cobweb was extremely fascinating. In that age, I simply enjoyed the story for just the story itself and not how it could be interpreted as."

"You miss that innocence." Reading children's books always made her nostalgic for that reason only.

"I miss taking words for their face value. I miss taking these stories as simple stories but look at it as allegories."

"Why _Charlotte's web_? I am sorry if you feel that I am intruding."

"No, you are not prying. This is actually nice." They shared a smile. He continued.

"As I said before, it was just the cool factor of spider creating cobwebs in the form of words which made me fall in love with this book. But as I grew up, I could actually relate myself, to an extent, with Wilbur."

"Wilbur the pig?"

"Yes, he is the one. I wasn't exactly the runt kind, but was of different kind. I loved reading and playing piano when compared to outdoor activities. It wasn't like I was bad at sports, but organized games held my interest for a very short duration. My parents were happy with me. But sometimes, I wondered if my parents preferred me to be more similar like my siblings." He had a faraway look on his face and was running his index finger on the spine of the book.

"So you didn't play any games as kid with your siblings?"

"I did, a lot actually. But deep down, I was never too satisfied with it. Games have rules and regulations, the outcome of which depends on a tangible evidence which requires an amount of intelligence and physical stamina to obtain."

"You don't like rules?"

"I like rules just fine. But for little kids, the whole idea of outdoor activities with lots of rules is defeated. As a kid, I preferred board games where winning and losing is solely dependent on sheer dumb luck. I loved rain as a kid because my siblings and I would coop up in family room and play board games for hours. Instead of my brother telling me how to hold bat he would clap my shoulder and wish me better luck for next round. In board games, all kids were equals irrespective of their intellectual and physical capability. I liked that."

"That's one way of seeing things. Organized games teach kids to have discipline. It teaches them that no matter how good they are, they can always be better with more training. It gives them opportunities to pursue passion and makes them realize that there are some sacrifices required to achieve a goal; be it a game or be it life itself."

"I agree." She was mesmerized with the conviction in which he said certain things; as if there is no further room for doubt from the opposite party. She loved that aspect of certainty in others.

"Did you cry when _Charlotte_ dies?" She wanted to know what he was like a young man. He must have been one interesting kid.

"The first time when I heard the story, I bawled my eyes out. Even my elder brothers were very supportive when I requested them to light a candle in memory of _Charlotte_ when we visited church." They chuckled.

"When did you first feel that you shared a connection with Wilbur?" She was suddenly curious about it. She was a voracious reader even when she was young and she had started branding books as "kid stuff" when her peers had barely skimmed their book list.

"I think I was eleven when I noted that there was a change in the way I had started to perceive things. It was either that or it was because my perception about things was a lot different from kids of my age."

"It's definitely the latter, trust me." She grinned at him.

"I found out that some kids took competition to whole lot of different level. I was good at sports but I always believed that foul play happened only in TV series and never in real life. That was the first lesson I learned. On that day, I had cried for hours burying my face in my mother's lap. And on that day I lost a shard of my innocence." He grew quiet for a while until she broke the silence.

"It was inevitable, wasn't it?"

"Inevitability is a way of life. Now, I feel that it was more of a resigned acceptance of the way things were rather than being delusional about how perfect it has to be. As I grew up, I kept trading innocence with reality or I don't know if I was trading 'what I can be' with 'what I have to be'. "

"Aren't they the same?" He smiled at her. He was attracted to her natural curiosity and the way she accepted his long boring monologue with a simple statement.

"What do you think?" He was interested to know what she thought about the whole innocence thing.

"When I was young my interests varied between being part of a fairy tale to owning a rainbow of my own. Once I got addicted to reading, interests changed. They changed with time and with my growing intelligence. I would not say that innocence is lost. Innocence is never lost. We simply accept an alternate reality and call it our own. But deep in our hearts we always live in our own personal reality, where we truly can be what we want to be." For few moments the only noise in the bookstore was a faint sound of rain splattering on the window panes. They were both contemplating on their childhood, innocence lost and intelligence gained. When their eyes met, they both smiled and got up together. He picked a copy of _Alice in Wonderland_ and handed it over to her.

"I will take this, please." She noticed with a frown that he had kept _Charlotte's Web _back in the shelf. After he walked past her towards counter, she silently picked it up. He paid cash to cover for the book and noted in surprise that there were actually two books in the bag that she had handed over to him. No words were exchanged and he simply stared at her.

"A little gift to remember that innocence is never truly lost." He continued to stare at her for few minutes and he suddenly smiled. He waved a good bye and walked out of the store. Just before he closed the door behind him, he uttered his parting words.

"Next time, I am bringing coffee." When she looked up from whatever she was doing, he was already gone. She felt a thrill going down on her spine when she realized that she would be seeing him again. She hummed an old tune as she prepared herself to lock the store.

**--o00o--**

_Tomorrow (Tuesday): He visits her again, as promised with a cup of coffee and to buy a travelogue. They talk about traveling, moving out, epiphanies during road trips and back packing._

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_Hello! This is my first Twilight fan fiction. Kindly read and review!  
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	2. Truesday

_On Truesday, the prince of stories listened to the tale of a nightmare it had created a handful of years before, and sent out into the world. Then the prince of stories walked the bounds of the dreaming, beginning with the shores of night, and from there to the borders of the shifting places. – Neil Gaiman, The Kindly ones, Chapter 8 (Issue #64)_

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**Tuesday **

Her roommate had badgered her relentlessly for information about the stranger who had visited her bookstore on a rainy Monday evening. She had gushed about the things that they had talked about and had felt very shy when she confessed to her roommate that she was mildly attracted to that person. When her pixie roommate had asked for a name, her face had become blank. Over the past few days, she had rerun that conversation with the stranger more than she liked to admit. The two of them had not bothered for an idyllic chit chat or formal introductions. It surprised her to realize that it didn't matter at all. Every evening when clock turned eight, a discreet nervousness settled in her stomach and an unexplainable disappointment when she had to lock the store without a visit from him.

It had been a tiring Tuesday and she had decided to relax with a nice classic before she locked up for the day. She was startled to see a tall cup of coffee on her table as she raised her head from the book that she was immersed in. As she raised her eyes to look the face of the owner of coffee, she got lost in the intensity of a pair of green eyes and her lips curled automatically to give him a smile. He didn't return her smile.

"The door was unlocked. Do you have any idea how irresponsible that is?" She found that she liked it when he scolded her. She ducked her head to hide a smile. After a few moments, he spoke again.

"I am sorry if that was out of line. There were too many bad scenarios running in my head when I saw that the door was unlocked." He gave her a sheepish smile.

"Its alright. I will assure you that it won't happen again. Thanks for coffee." She grinned at him. They walked in silence around the store – him leading, her following. He stopped at travelogue section and pulled out a book which seemed to have caught his interest. She sat on floor and stretched her tired legs.

"How have you been for the past few days?" She broke the silence. He sat on the floor across her still flipping through pages of the book that he had picked out.

"I was traveling. It was purely business." He didn't know why he had to add that information in the end.

"Was it fun?" He sighed. She wondered if that was a wrong question to ask since he was flipping through the book and not looking at her and was being really quiet. But she had seen this side of him the last time they talked. It was when he was contemplating on something and collecting his thoughts before he could give her an answer.

"I am not sure. Traveling stopped being fun a long time ago. My office prepares my plan for the stay; flight tickets, hotels, car rentals everything is taken care of even before my plan is confirmed. All I have to do it follow the plan and utilize any non working days according to my wish. Apart from that there is nothing else that I would have to do."

"And you don't like it?"

"Its not that. You know almost all air ports look alike; a touch of local culture intermingled with international brands. It's like a city in itself. Given the time frame in which I hop between cities, I do most of my shopping in airports itself and I completely miss out on local markets and local culture."

"But that's how life now is, isn't it? Airports cater to those people who have less or no time to go and explore local cities in detail or even shop. Even you, who I think love to travel, have no time when you are on business. Hence airports morph into a dizzy metropolis."

"That is something I can understand and I believe which is good for local economy and is also a good solution for busy travelers. But internationalization of the local community is what bothers me the most. In a small town in central Europe, amidst charming little cafés you can see a McDonalds safely tucked. For many tourists, seeing McDonalds gives them a sense of familiarity in a foreign town. For some, it even reminds them of their home and is a place of comfort. But for some tourists, for example me, it is a reminder of the life that I have left behind during my travel." He took a sip of his coffee and smiled at her. She found that the way he saw things was very different from the regular mass. The last time he had told her that he was of different kind, she was thinking along the lines of having different tastes than an average male. It was not that at all. His perception of everything was different from the rest. It made her more intrigued of his personality.

"I come from small town so I guess I see your point. Lot of local restaurants, cafés, gift shops, bookstores struggle to survive around bigger brands. It's not as if these international brands are bad in any sense, but they sure bring down the uniqueness of a place." She felt a lump in her throat. She was having a tough time maintaining the finances and her partner had told her the other day that they wish to move out of partnership. Her option was to buy it out from them, if she wanted to retain the bookstore or sell the bookstore to some buyer and give her partner their share. He cottoned on her faraway look and badgered her to give him answers. She told him about the finances eventually. He sensed that she didn't feel like talking about it much so he came back to the subject of traveling.

"Which is the place that you would want to visit the most?" She took a moment to answer.

"Asia, I think. There are so many places to visit there. Places that we have heard about talked about and read about. The cultural, language, food, everything is fascinating. What about you?"

"It would be the same. Mostly because, my business has not taken me to Asia and I never had the time to take a vacation in Asia, but yeah, it is something that I want to visit once. My most enjoyable vacation would be a road trip; alone or with really close friends. What is your most memorable road trip?" She blushed at that.

"I haven't exactly taken a road trip." He stared at her for a few moments.

"Not taking a road trip is like your passage to adulthood is incomplete. I am not talking about the romanticized road trips that you see in movies and read in teen novels. I am talking about those which lead to self realization." His eyes were amused. She raised an eye-brow at that.

"What did you realize?"

"During one of the road trips in the early days of college, I had an epiphany. I realized why I preferred brunettes over blondes." She burst out laughing. He joined her a moment later. He continued after he managed to catch his breath.

"What, you expected it to be some kind of a philosophical rambling about existential complexity or something equally inane?"

"Knowing you till now, yes." She giggled.

"Road trips are for fun, to be with friends, to see the world around us without any filter attached to our eyes, to mend mistakes and to think. When everything gets overwhelming, I drive towards horizon, without any goal for hours. Many a times, this self imposed loneliness has helped to bring down my stress level. Its lot better than drowning sorrows in alcohol."

"Maybe I should try it once. You know, to drive without an aim in mind."

"Maybe you should. Take couple of days off. If you think that world around you will stop operating because you are not there, then you are mistaken. The world might slow down or skid or have too many problems overnight but it will never stop turning." She felt tears sting in her eyes. She could not remember the last time she took some time off for herself. During her spare time, her roommate dragged her off for outing or some other outdoor activity. She decided to think about taking a break from normalcy in coming few days. But at present, she didn't want to think about the influence this stranger was having on her. It was too soon to think in that direction. His words cut her off from her thoughts.

"Oh, by the way, I have a present for you." She was surprised. She wasn't that big of a fan when it came to gifts but she was excited about his gift. He placed a small book in her palm. She laughed when she read the title – _101 things to remember when you travel._

"I picked it up in some cheesy gift stores that aim tourists. But I did learn one good thing though."

"What was it?" She was curious, as usual.

"_Always check for water supply and toilet paper before using a toilet._" She burst out laughing.

"This is the most useful tip anyone has ever given me. Do you know how humiliating it is when either or both of them are absent?"

"No. But do you?"

"Yes. But I am not giving you any details." They shared a silent laugh.

"Thank you for this book, your words and everything." He simply nodded and smiled at her.

"Your bookstore gives me a feeling of home. Its strange how I have not felt this feeling after moving out of my parents' house but in my second visit, I feel I am at home here."

"Moving out of your parents' house was difficult for you?"

"Definitely. I am one of those people who are very much attached to their parents. I have always looked up to my parents and they have supported me in every walk of my life. Leaving sheltered life and being in open for the world to see and judge is a brutal experience. Little things that I had taken for granted when I was at my parents started to look like a great responsibility; things like laundry, clean underwear, ironed clothes, fresh socks, changing sheets et al. I chatted with my mom when she did laundry. I held other end of sheets when she changed them. I missed those little interactions when I moved out." His tone had a faraway ring to it. It was nice to hear someone sharing this kind of details. Most of her friends, including herself, had seen moving out of parents' house as a ticket to freedom. She had never thought about it from the perspective of a parent. It could have been because she was never close to her parents that much. But she did miss her mother and her craziness from time to time. She shook her head. She remembered her early years in college.

"The euphoria of moving out of my father's house died within hours of landing in my dorm. Suddenly I was facing a world that I had never seen before and I was on the other side of the country. It was disheartening to see the obvious prejudice in peoples' eyes when you get yourself introduced. Overcoming this is a slow and tedious process. But I realized that this attitude in people was something to be expected for the rest of my life. I think that was the first and biggest lesson I learned right after moving out."

"They gave you a hard time?"

"Not really, no. Sometimes, their words hurt. Later on I simply shrugged them off and moved on. But it took some time to get there." He got up and held a hand out for her to get to her feet. She saw that he still had that book in his hands – _Global soul: Jet lag, Shopping malls and the search for home – Pico Iyer._ Once they reached the counter, she asked him.

"Shall I ring it up?" He nodded and handed her some cash. Before she could bag it for him, he gently took the book from her hands, took a pen from table, scribbled few words and handed it to her. She accepted it without a word. She didn't question the reason behind his action nor did she try to find a reason behind her actions.

"I will see you again, with coffee, of course." She smiled and waved as he left the bookstore. As if remembering something, she checked what he had written in the book.

_For you, in the memory of this evening, road trips to come, continents to see and epiphanies to be realized. Make your own adventures!!!_

**--o00o--**

_Tomorrow (Wednesday): They share their innermost fears, insecurities and talk about B grade horror cinemas, spy fiction and their affliction to night._

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_Kindly read and review._


	3. Wodensday

_On Wodensday, he walked the castle. The heart of dreaming is as large as dreaming itself. He began in the cellars beneath the castle, where once many wines and jars and distillates were stored. He took counsel with great spiders, and exchanged quiet words with many legged scuttling things, who viewed him as one of themselves. – Neil Gaiman, The Kindly ones, Chapter 8 (Issue #64)_

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**Wednesday**

He was surprised to see the bookstore in total darkness. He wondered if he was very late and she had closed the store for the day. He didn't expect anyone to respond when he knocked the door but was surprised to hear a muffled voice saying – "It's closed."

"It's me." He said. At that moment he realized that they had not yet introduced themselves. Till that moment it had not mattered much to him. When he thought about, it really didn't matter at all.

"Hi, it's you!" She whispered opening the door. Only then he realized that there were no lights burning in the store. She had a candle in her hand which was giving her an ethereal look.

"Yes, it's me." He whispered back.

"There is something wrong with the power supply. I think the fuse is blown or something along those lines." She again whispered.

"Oh OK. But why are we whispering?" His tone held mild amusement. She cleared her throat and spoke in a normal tone.

"Darkness inherently makes me whisper. I have always associated silence with darkness. Thus, for me, speaking in dark is like breaking silence. So I whisper."

"And you call me, odd." They chuckled.

"Why are you surprised to see me?" He asked her as they settled on the floor across each other in one of the aisles. She had placed candle between them and their faces were hidden in semi-darkness.

"It's been a month since your last visit so I thought you know…" She trailed off.

"Thought what?" He had an inkling of what she thought.

"I thought that you might never come back. We have met only twice before and honestly lets face it. I am not exactly the kind of person that a guy like you would come back for. Over the years, I have gotten used to feeling that." She shrugged to hide how vulnerable she was feeling. It wasn't something that generally shared with people. It wasn't as if she had too many friends in the first place. Her handful of friends knew how shy was with new people and how she took time to get used to them. The ones who had patience to find out what she truly was had remained very close to her. But with him, her frazzled nerves found a strange sense of serenity. She didn't particularly care if he judged her. Maybe deep down, she somehow understood that he would never judge her. Maybe that's why she was being completely honest with him. Maybe she found a comfort of sharing her innermost insecurities in this darkness. She saw him shuffling around and he finally settled next to her, shoulder to shoulder.

"I don't know about other guys but you are the person I personally would love to come back to." She was again floored by the honesty and conviction in his words. Generally she would have felt a thousand questions arising for a statement like this accompanied with lots of self doubts. But in that moment, she accepted his words without a shred of doubt. She completely relaxed herself next to him. Even as the silence stretched, she felt his mute companionship extremely soothing.

"There were many instances in college when guys spoke to me or tried to go out with me because I had a beautiful roommate. At first it hurt me a lot, but in later years, it was quite amusing. I never got over that, I think." She was feeling oddly melancholic.

"You give yourself too little credit." She simply shrugged. They fell silent for few minutes.

"In younger years, not many people look for a mature partner. You get to be young only once so it's natural that one might want to make most of it. But its ironic how one would miss out on the real deal even when it is glaringly obvious in front of their eyes." His voice had taken a softer tone as if he was trying to console her. But she couldn't be sure of that.

"Now, who is whispering?" She taunted him. He understood the underlying plea in her words. She wasn't comfortable sharing her insecurities about guys with a guy she barely knew. He simply rolled his eyes, not that she could see that.

"I think your absurd theory of darkness and silence is not so lame, after all."

"Why do you say that?"

"In darkness everything looks the same like in silence everything sounds the same. Both have an amazing tendency to hide the pain, don't you think so?" She wasn't sure if he arrived at this conclusion because of her predicament or it was something he figured out on his own. He sure was smart.

"In a manner of speaking, yes. I am weary of both because of the unexpected component that they both present."

"What is it?"

"In darkness, I don't know what I am looking at. I don't know if whatever I am looking at is in reality what I think it is. Just like in silence, I wouldn't know what the person is thinking. If a person is talking, then at least I know what is going on in his or her mind. It's safe, that way."

"Are you worried about what people think of you?"

"No, but are you?" He didn't answer immediately and that answered her question. She was surprised that a good looking intelligent man like him was emotionally dependent on others' approval.

"I try not to. I constantly find myself in a dichotomy of what I really want versus what is expected out of me." His voice sounded distant. They both knew that things don't change overnight. They knew that a person's innermost insecurities take years to heal. But sharing and accepting was the first step in healing process.

"You know if this was a spy thriller, then you would have declared your love for me and would have given me a trinket which would have super confidential government data encoded inside it and you would ask me to wait for you till you finish your current assignment. Then both of us would be crying and you will be telling me –'wait for me' over and over." There was a moment of silence and then both of them burst into laughter.

"Reading spy fiction, these days?" He asked her in between laughs.

"I went through a phase couple of years ago when I used to get obsessed with a genre of books and even watched movies of the same genre."

"Spy fiction was one such genre." He sounded amused.

"I read _Ian Fleming's James Bond _novels and fell in love with whole charismatic spy thing. That was my initiation to spy fiction. After that, I read whatever I got my hands on." She giggled at the thought of some of the cheesiest titles that she had come across.

"I am not that much of a fan of spy fiction, to be honest. Apart from _Conan Doyle's Sherlock Holms, _I am afraid, I haven't read anything else." He confessed.

"They are the best. These days most of these spy fiction genre books are filled with more and more technology based details rather than actual spy work. Like an everyday man, even a spy is more dependent on his gadgets rather than doing the snooping around on his own. In _James Bond, _it was cool to read about these fancy gadgets. But when half the stuff is discovered using gadgets, then these books kind of defeat their purpose. Spy fiction these days are more dependent in tactical ability as compared to intelligence and common sense."

"Isn't that true for most of the people?" They shared a smile, not that they could see it. She jumped at the sound of tires screeching outside her store.

"Not too fond of dark, are we?" He asked her, amused of her jittery behavior.

"Inherent absence of light makes me nervous."

"The answer is yes, then." He laughed outright. She grumbled something under her breath.

"You know if this was a B-grade horror movie, then a zombie or some poltergeist would have been awakened and we would be running around your bookstore trying to find a way to end them. Then you, because its always the girls who get all the limelight in these kind of movies, would remember a story or an anecdote that you once heard as a child from a fortune teller, who would be a gypsy by the way, that you hold a key to something important and would save the world. So, you, a person who is terribly scared of dark and everything associated with it will save me once or twice and save the whole world by finishing of the dark forces."

"I think I have seen at least a dozen movies with the same storyline." She giggled.

"I think writing horror novels is the most difficult of the lot. Because people get scared of situations in which their senses are not very useful, like when it's dark. It's a little easy to achieve that in movies with the help of sound and light. But to evoke that kind of an emotion with words take a lot of effort."

"You are a fan of horror genre?"

"I am. It's fascinating to see how effect of light and sound can be traumatic on human mind, even when we know that whatever is happening on the screen is not real. Horror fiction can be truly enjoyed by those who have a good imagination. Otherwise, they are simply words."

"Which one is your favorite?"

"_The shining, by Stephen King. _It was one book that really scared me and the movie scared me even more."

"I remember bits and parts of that movie."

"Bits and parts?"

"I was covering my eyes for all the scary parts you see." Her voice was sheepish.

"So basically you didn't watch the movie."

"No." She laughed.

"Really, why are you so scared of the dark?" He asked her.

"I lived with my mother till I was in junior high. Being with a single parent, who lived like a young woman forced me to grow up faster than my peers. There were times when I woke up because I heard a sound outside my window. But I knew that I could not walk down the hall and wake my mom up because her boyfriend would be there with her. She was a wonderful mother to me; there is no doubt about it. But during nights when I needed my mom, she was busy being a woman. In the mornings, I would see her happy face and used to swallow my fear of the night. I guess I never really got over it."

"When I was eight, I slept with a cross, a rosary and some garlic everyday. My brother had convinced me that there was a vampire on the prowl and using these items kept vampires away. Just to make sure that I don't tell this to my mom, he had added to the story saying that, if I say this to any elders, they will face a gory end. After a few days my mother got a hang of the constant smell of garlic in my room and got the story out of me. I was embarrassed when I found out that my brother had played a prank on me." She imagined him as a little boy, tearing up because of a prank played by older brothers. When she heard stories about her friends' escapades with their siblings, she wished that she wasn't a single child.

"How did you get over your fear of the dark?"

"I don't think anyone gets over their fear of the dark. Till there is light, everyone is brave and not scared of anything. In darkness, even the bravest of the brave will have a touch of fear of the unknown. Everyone have their personal nightmares. As we grow older, they become more pronounced and sometime intermingle with reality." The candle that she had lit was almost dying as if indicating them that their time was up. He seemed to catch on that fact and got up, ready to leave.

"Shall I fix that fuse thing now?" She got up and motioned him to follow her. After a few minutes, the bookstore again lit with evening lights.

"Thank you for being there with me, in the dark today and thank you for helping me to find the light." The meaning of her words was not lost on him. He wasn't sure why but he wanted to simply hug her and never let go. He imagined her as a little girl, curled up in her bed and praying for dawn to come soon. He shook his head to clear his thoughts.

"I took a drive a few days back you know, just a few hundred miles from here." She was grinning at him now. His brooding state was replaced with sudden happiness. She had not only thought about his advice but acted upon it.

"I am glad you did. You have any epiphanies to share?" He wanted to know every tiny detail of her road trip; perhaps sometime in future, he mused.

"I realized why jade and emeralds have become my favorite gem stones." They shared a smile. There was no reason for any more words, anyway. He disappeared into the night after offering her a gentle good bye, with a promise to visit her soon.

**--o00o--**

_Tomorrow (Thursday): She tells him why she thinks certain poems are better than self-help books and he tells her his fascination with poetry on autumn season. And, she has a good news for him._

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	4. Thirstday

_On Thirstday, the king of dreams walked in the waking world. He stood briefly at the side of the hall, watching a young woman with a guitar tell an audience of a dream she had had, in a song. – Neil Gaiman, The Kindly ones, Chapter 8 (Issue #64)_

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**Thursday**

She was talking to one of her employee who was just leaving for the day. The two of them were the last ones left in the deserted bookstore. They heard the familiar tinkle of opening of the door and she could see that her employee was about to yell that the store was closing but it never came. She turned around to see that _he _was standing by the counter and she caught her employee was blatantly staring at him. The way he looked tonight, anyone with two X chromosomes would be staring at him. Dinner jackets had never looked better. He looked amused to see two women staring at him unabashedly. He placed coffee cups on the counter and waved a hello at her. She locked the door when her employee left and turned to see that both he and their coffees were missing. She found him standing by a window at the back of the store waiting for her. She thanked him as he handed her a cup.

"You have plans for tonight?" She asked him pointing at his attire.

"I had plans, yes. There is a party tonight for which I was told that my attendance was mandatory. This party was arranged in the garden and when I arrived there, the evening frivolities had begun. It's a beautiful autumn evening and somehow the noise was kind of running my mood to enjoy the evening. Then I found myself driving here. So, here I am."

"You are not a fan of parties?" During their last meeting, both of them had been brooding and the whole conversation had had a melancholic ring to it. Sitting in darkness hadn't helped to cheer them up either.

"I am not fan of anything that involves too loud atmosphere. I feel that I cannot even hear my own thinking." He chuckled and continued.

"I don't mind going to parties occasionally. But it gets tiresome when one has to pretend something that he or she is not feeling. It is too beautiful of an evening to be spent with strangers and acquaintances." She didn't hide the smile that was blossoming on her face. She was under strict orders from her roommate that she had to find out everything about the man who was currently sipping coffee and looking out of the window. She had felt exasperated at her roommate's continuous innuendos and unashamed teasing.

"But you are a fan of autumn." It wasn't a question. He had made it quite obvious in past few statements.

"There is something melancholic and romantic about this season. It's an end to glorious golden summer and onset of white winter, thus the melancholy. Then you have purple skies, occasional rain, beautiful color which adds to the romantic element."

"I honestly didn't peg you for a romantic; sensitive yes, but not exactly the romantic type."

"Autumn makes me romantic I guess. I especially love taking a stroll in the park amidst fallen leaves. The color has an amount of charm associated to it, but it's the onset of the white winter makes them look even more beautiful."

"When we know that something that we love is going to disappear even if it were for a few months, that invariably becomes the most beautiful and treasured thing for us in the world." Her subtle insinuation wasn't missed on him. He smiled in acceptance. She had an uncanny ability to summarize everything that he was feeling in a few sentences only. He found that utterly charming.

"Who is your favorite?" She asked him.

"You know, almost every famous poet or author has at least one poem on autumn. A few of them have even had a handful. Poems by _John Keats _and _William Blake _are my favorite. Other than that, I generally enjoy poetry by _H.W. Longfellow _and _P.B. Shelly_"

"Recite your favorite verse please." She was looking like a little girl asking her mom for extra few minutes on the swing. Her enthusiasm curbed his desire to deny her. At that moment, he wondered if he could deny her anything at all.

_Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,  
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;  
Conspiring with him how to load and bless _

"_Ode to Autumn, John Keats._" She said, recognizing the words. She liked the way he recited poetry. There was an enchanting hum in his voice when he ended a note. It reverberated in the space around them making the ambience truly poetic. She found warmth around her even when the evening was chilly. Was this how autumn was truly supposed to feel?

"It's amazing in the way he builds up everything that leads to changing of seasons. How boisterous summer reduces to bleak winters, how both spring and autumn sport colors but each gets interpreted in a completely different way."

"You have a _Byronic _soul." She blurted out before she could edit things that came to her impulsively. He laughed. She joined in his laughter a moment later. On an impulse, he recited another verse.

_Birds are darting through the air,  
Singing, building without rest;  
Life is stirring everywhere,  
Save within my lonely breast_

She was actually surprised at the tone of his voice. It seemed as if he was trying to tell her something which he could not have possibly done so without this verse. She had read it before, of course. But that poem had never stirred the feelings that she was currently feeling. It was as if the poet had summed up the feelings for every lonely heart in this world.

"_Autumn within, Longfellow. _He is my favorite poet you know."

"I assumed as much. His poetry is generally an allegory to something parallel in an average man's life. When I read this poem back in high school for the first time, I understood the autumn part of it. After high school, the first time I remembered this poem was when I had my first taste of loneliness."

_Autumn is a second spring where every leaf is a flower. _

"_Albert Camus._ I didn't take you for a reader in philosophy." He sounded surprised.

"I am not that much into philosophy, quite honestly speaking. But these are the closest words that would describe autumn for me. Beginning of autumn celebrates life and its end decorates death." He was stumped by her words. Never was he so utterly attracted by someone's words. He decided to find out more about her perception about poetry.

"Why _Longfellow_?"

"Therapy." He stared at her for a moment.

"You lost me." He looked genuinely confused.

"If one makes an effort to understand his poetry, then one can actually write a book on self-help or self-motivation kinds."

"I see a point there." She gave him an example to emphasize herself better.

_The heights by great men reached and kept were not attained by sudden flight,  
But they while their companions slept were toiling upwards in the night._

"This verse is not exactly therapeutic, but it's extremely motivating. Everyone knows that if you work hard, you will definitely reap the benefits. But to tell the same thing in poetic way truly soothes a frazzled mind. When nothing seems to be working and life in general seem to be overwhelming, I take shelter in these poems."

"When did you discover _Longfellow_?"

"In high school, we were asked to write an essay. While searching for potential candidates, I came across _Ladder of St. Augustine_. I fell in love with that poem. The simplicity in which he writes always blows my mind."

"It's a little more than that I think. _Keats, _gives you a visual glory where as _Longfellow _gives you a new perceptive about yourself." They fell silent with their thoughts.

"Sometimes, poetry was an escape from reality. The meaning of words changed with my mood. Sometimes the lines that soothed me, made no sense the other times. It was fascinating to see how interpretation of a poem dependent on a person's perspective rather than the original intent."

"Isn't it true for every sense of literary works? An author would write a story which most likely would be influenced by society, culture, upbringing and his own experiences. A person cannot rule out the influence of his own personal life on the words that he pens down."

"The same logic is extended to readers also correct?"

"Yes. The way I see poetry is very much different from the way you perceive. For you, a poem has to be intellectually stimulating where as for me it has to be emotion stirring."

"There is this poem by _William Blake_, which I don't remember fully, but the initial lines were stunning."

_To see a world in a grain of sand,  
And a heaven in a wild flower,  
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand,  
And eternity in an hour._

"_Auguries of Innocence._" He recognized it. He thought it would be something that someone like her would like. For him, the verse had simply translated to – get the big picture. But after talking to her about so many things in their last few meetings, he was sure her point of view on this is going to be drastically different from what he thought about it. And he couldn't wait to hear about it.

"My father is Chief of Police in a small town. Mostly it's a peaceful town and there are rarely too many disturbances. I had just moved to my father's house and I heard that there was some case with vandalism of personal property. My father along with some of his associates had been to this run down place and no one had heard from them for a while. I got a call a few hours later stating that the arrests had gone wrong and my father was in surgery. When I waited for doctors to tell me something – anything, I felt that it was the worst and longest hours of my life. An uncertainty of future of a loved on can make even an hour feel like time is stretching till infinity."

"It's a matter of perception. Because I feel that even an eternity that I spend with you would be like spending just an hour." He said it as if he was going to buy a cup of coffee to her; casual and forthright.

"Then isn't it a matter of circumstance that influence the perception of poetry?" His earlier statement had caught her unguarded. But looking at the way they were heading, it was an inevitable outcome. She was delighted in the fact that this strange attraction that she had for a stranger was working both ways. But his words had an absolution while she was still hovering her feet over the boundaries.

"Perhaps you are right." He idly mused. The silence that they shared was one that of mutual consent. She remembered to give him an update on her financial situation.

"My partner has found someone who is ready to invest in this book store." The day she had heard the news, she was worried for a minute. Her lawyer had convinced that the new buyers of the other half were pretty decent people. However he was surprised that the people who were buying were very well established and had never invested in these kinds of businesses. She told him the same thing.

"Are you happy now?" He asked her.

"I am relieved. Happiness is a state of mind that I am a little weary about. I prefer to be content or satisfied."

"Why is that?" He was surprised.

"Happiness is truly achieved when sadness completes its course. I honestly don't want any of that."

"You really are absurd." He smiled. She simply shrugged.

"The people who are buying out from my partner didn't even visit this store before the made a deal. Everything happened between two different set of lawyers."

"You wished to meet them?"

"I would have liked to. They have given me complete freedom in maintenance and execution of my plans for this store and they will provide me full financial backing. But the whole idea of partnership is sort of defeated you know. Its more like one party invests and the other party executes."

"Isn't that relationship good; when one gives and the other takes and the one that takes gives back in a different form?"

"I guess it is." She sighed. Apparently she wasn't explaining it well enough or he was one of those people who believed in keeping business and people relationship completely different.

"You don't believe in that, do you?" She looked up. He gave her a tender look.

"No. I don't. I am glad about the fact that my new partners are really nice people who are ready to trust me with a lot of responsibility but I just assumed that even they would be actively involved in running the bookstore." He couldn't reply to that. With a silent agreement, they walked towards cash counter. On his way, he picked up a bookmark from nearby shelf.

"You are buying that?" She asked him as he took out his wallet and when he took out a pen, she continued.

"For me?"

"Of course" He grinned at her. She rolled her eyes and accepted cash. He dropped the bookmark into her open palm and wished her a gentle goodbye. Once he disappeared into the night, she turned the bookmark around to see his words in his neat writing.

_I want to bottle your laughter and hang it around my neck,  
I want to see your brilliant smile reflecting in my tea cup. __  
I want to paint a little picture with my pocket full of dreams,  
In every stroke of that picture there is a dream of you and me._

As she ran her fingers on the words, she knew that the words were written just for her, by him.

**--o00o--**

_Tomorrow (Friday): Where they talk about their childhood dreams, failed relationships and best friends. _

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	5. Fire’sday

_On Fire'sday, Dream was reviewing certain of the various treaties and agreements between the dreaming and other states and boundaries and entities, when he was disturbed. – Neil Gaiman, The Kindly ones, Chapter 8 (Issue #64)_

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**Friday**

Her best friend who was also her roommate was irritated and annoyed at her attitude. She had recited every poem he had uttered and had even tried to mimic his tone but failing miserably. The reason for her roommate's frustration was that she had failed to mention the bookmark to her for couple of days; also that she still didn't know the name of the stranger. She had tried to convince her friend saying that it really didn't matter to her. Knowing a person's name, his background, his job, might influence on her unbiased perception of him. At this point, they were reading each other in the level of blue prints where everything is raw and very clearly defined. The finished product which is presented to society generally hides minor flaws. It also hides fantastic foundation. Her friend however, had thought that she was simply scared to accept something so good in her life. She had zoned out after that, barely paying any heed to her friend's rant. Her experience with men or even people for that matter was very less. She took things by face value and had no interest in games people played with body language, subtlety and wordplay; not that she knew how to play those games in first place. With him, things were black and white and they rarely tread the gray areas. She wasn't comfortable in sharing her insecurities, but with him, it had not really mattered. In the beginning she was honest because she thought she would never see him again. There is always a comfort in talking to people who are strangers because they have such a fresh perspective since they have no clue what others are. But after the first meeting, she was honest with him because she wanted to; because she felt that she could not be otherwise with him. It had been more than a week since he last showed up at her bookstore. It had been a lazy day and she had thought of closing the store a few minutes early and head straight home. She was arguing with her roommate on the phone about not wanting to go to a club when a familiar set of hands placed two cups of steaming coffee on the counter, she hung up stating that she now did have some plans for the evening.

"Was that your best friend who is always looking out for you?" He was smiling.

"That was my best friend who is always badgering me to get a life." She said sourly.

"What's wrong with that?"

"Everyone has a perception of how to lead a life. Many people think that I don't have a life because I don't socialize much. I don't blame them for thinking that way because anything other than what majority of the population does is generally not accepted easily in this society."

"But a man, a human as such is not designed to be a loner. Yes, there are tones of philosophical books which talk about singularity of human existence, but our nature is not designed that way. There is no organism which lives alone. And man especially, since the dawn of evolution has lived in packs."

"Yet, here we are."

"Yes. Here we are." They shared a smile. Both of them knew that being a loner is something that no human would ever want. But most of them would prefer being that way instead of being with other people. Everyone had their reasons for that; some valid and some totally illogical and downright stupid.

"So why then?" She whispered. She knew that if she hadn't asked this question, then he would have. Invariably, they would and should know the reasons for their self inflicted seclusion from social boundaries. He was silent for few moments.

"I think it's the arrogance that I have about my intelligence makes me stay away from a lot of people. Sometimes it's the prejudice that I have about people who party hard that they have no capability of participating in a sane conversation. I start drawing conclusion about people after talking for a few minutes but without making an effort to get to know them further. It's not a conscious decision you know. It takes years to grow and one fine day, you do realize that this is what you have become. I had become a loner in the crowd. I had pushed people away with foolish reasons and even now I am paying the price for it. When I was pushing those people away, I hadn't even realized what I was signing up for."

"Have you changed from the person what you used to be before?"

"Change is never a conscious decision; except the ones that have to be made in point of view which has an influence on entire outlook of one's life. I have tried to be the friend that my best friend wanted me to be when he was going through some personal crisis. He was surprised by my actions and the words I had offered him at that time and he has expressed his gratitude for that. When he said that I was a great friend for him in those difficult times, I felt as if I had accomplished the greatest task in the world. If satisfaction of my friends is the result of me overcoming my prejudices, then I think trying to change my perception to fit better in my social circle was very much worth it."

"Have you ever felt that by changing so, you have lost a little bit of your own identity?"

"Identity is not something predefined and there are no hard and fast rules that it has to be constant for the rest of our lives. Identity is what I show people today how I am. When they meet me years later, some may still see me as how I have been before and some may see me changed. Sometimes people's perception itself changes and they see that everything around them has changed when in reality most of the stuff remains the same."

"So would you go and change your course of life for someone else's sake?" She was intrigued by his personality. She knew that he was not modest about his looks or about his intelligence but to accept that he is a snob was something else entirely.

"I already did." He answered looking at her intently. She didn't want to know about that. She wasn't scared of his answer but she was mostly scared of her own reaction to his answer.

"I wonder what your roommate slash best friend would say if I tell her that I convinced you to take a road trip." He mused idly.

"You would be her friend for life and I would never hear the end of it." There was a fondness in her voice whenever she talked about her friend.

"You care about her very much, don't you?"

"It's hard not to care for a person like her. There have been times when all she cared about is my happiness. Whenever she makes plans, be it for an evening or for a holiday, she always considers me in them. For her, it's natural to be attached to people she loves."

"So sometimes you feel that you don't deserve that kindness. That's why you were questioning me about changes and individuality." She had not understood why her roommate stayed had with her for such a long time. It wasn't a self deprecating statement but a logical deduction based on their quite clashing personalities.

"A relationship to work needs nurturing from every party involved. Between me and her, I feel like I have been the one who is always taking and rarely giving. She doesn't expect anything from me but some days I feel horrible for taking her for granted."

"A relationship also needs all the involved parties to be honest with each other. Sometimes, we might have to make sacrifices to keep the relationship intact or to keep it smooth sailing. Do something for her which would make her happy. It might make you uncomfortable for a while, but seeing her happiness, you might not regret it."

"You know, I never understood the logic behind sacrifices."

"That's the whole point. Sacrifices are illogical and irrational."

"In my younger days, I believed that end justifies the means. But when it came to sacrifices, the whole logic crumbles badly."

"When I started working, I was very much impressed to see people with families balancing their personal and professional life remarkably well. But when you look at them closely, you can see that there are tiny little sacrifices tucked between major bursts of happy times in their lives. A man works for seventy hours in one week, misses his little boy's game, forgets an important anniversary; all this to get a fantastic vacation for his family. In one week, each one of them has been unhappy and has sacrificed a tiny bit of happiness for something bigger."

"But this is along the assumption that this 'something bigger' is much better than the little things that the family has missed in one week. For a little boy, seeing his dad cheer him during a game is much important than spending a week in a resort."

"That's why sacrifices are illogical." They both contemplated on things that were spoken in past few minutes. She broke the silence first.

"Sacrifices in relationship are helpful only till the other party acknowledges it, accepts it and appreciates it. When it becomes an expectation, the relationship reduces to a mere compromise of ideologies." He looked at her. Her face was hidden behind curtain of her hair. He got a feeling that she was not talking about her best friend anymore. No, the tone had too much sorrow to associate it with her roommate.

"I thought I had a good relationship with him. There were no fairytale sequences or over the top romanticism in the way our relationship progressed. It was like a gentle river. All of us invariably have certain amount of expectation from one another. But when that expectation supersedes over any other decision, then there is very little left of that relationship. What started out as a wonderful companionship had reduced to a compromised companionship; not that there was anything left of that." He still couldn't see her face. Perhaps it was her way of dealing things; alone and behind a veil of set of ideologies.

"What exactly went wrong?"

"Nothing and everything I suppose. When relationship becomes stagnant, then even smallest of the ripples seem like tidal waves. We were not able to deal with that. We were in college, we were looking for place to live, searching for jobs, dealing with sudden responsibility of adulthood, student loans, everything. Again, it was nothing that one doesn't face in his or her life. Responsibilities only increased with time. But our patience with each other rather got taxed."

"So you went separate ways?"

"I said good bye to him before our differences turned into something nastier. He was OK with that since he said that being with me was a mistake in the first place. He had managed to reduce three years of my emotions to something that he preferred to forget in his life and used it as a bench mark of what he would never want or go for in his future." She never got over the fact that how an end to an event had nullified everything that led to that end. Had the journey not mattered at all, just because they took different directions when they encountered a fork in the path?

"I don't think that it's possible to forget a person especially after being with that person for three years; at least not you. Please, do not see this as an act of sympathy. He might have said that it was a mistake and perhaps would never want to see you again, but you cannot rule out the fact that the influence that he had on you or vice versa would take sometime to fade away or they might be with you forever, if you let them. Is one person's perception of you has influenced you to such an extent that you lose faith in yourself?"

"I was with that person for three years. That has to account for something." He could not answer her. There is only so much convincing one can do. Unless she changed the perception about herself, she would never free herself from this tangled mess.

"I am trying you know, to get over my own insecurities, my pessimistic view of my own self." She whispered looking at him for the first time since she started talking about her first and only failed relationship.

"I will always be there to help." It wasn't a statement to console her current state of mind. It was a promise he intended to keep for the rest of their lives.

"I know and I am glad that it's you." In that moment she had crossed all the boundaries that were set between them. In that moment, she acknowledged everything that was there between them. In that moment, she realized the inevitable presence of him in her future. And in that moment, she accepted that she loved him as much as he loved her. She found that her acceptance of him wasn't earth shattering or ground breaking. It was as if she finally found a place to rest her permanently aching head. She felt she was home at last.

"Where do you keep comic books?" The tension of the evening was dissolved and there was warmth in his gaze when he asked her. She guided him to the shelf where comics were stored.

"Is this for you or your kids?" She grinned at him cheekily. He rolled his eyes at her.

"Of course it's for me. And besides, an adult would enjoy humor in _Calvin and Hobbs _rather than a kid."

"Isn't it kind of ironic? It seems as if the author, _Bill Watterson_ is trying to tell the adults what kids already seem to know."

"The knowledge that we gain during our childhood gets maligned over the period of time. Books like these remind us of that."

"It would be like, you and I would say – 'existential complexity' where as a kid would say 'life sucks'."

"We go on complicating things in our lives by applying too many rules in the name of social etiquette. If you are a kid, if you share the swing for few minutes with another kid during recess, then they are best friends from then on. It's nice that way." They fell silent at that.

He picked up a copy of _Calvin and Hobbs: Homicidal psycho jungle cat_ and asked her to ring it up. He noted that he was short of cash to cover for the book.

"I am running short of cash. Can I pay it later?" He gave her a charming smile.

"We do accept credit cards you know." She raised an eyebrow at him. Even if he had offered his credit card, she would have probably refused it. It looked as if both of them believed that the gift of anonymity was rather intoxicating.

"Put it on my tab please. I will pay it next time." He grinned at her and waved a good bye. As if remembering something, he came back to counter and dropped a thin leather journal around four to five inches long on the counter top. He smiled and left as suddenly as he had come. She felt warmth spread around her when she opened the journal. There were poems, anecdotes, philosophical ramblings scribbled in varied colored inks. It was his of course. This was his way of sharing his private thoughts. As conversation from earlier ran through her head, she decided to take a break from monotony and gave a call to her roommate. She thought she would lose her hearing when her roommate let out a surprise yell when she said that she would go to club that evening. As he had said, the happiness that she sensed in her friend's voice was totally worth the discomfort she would feel for the rest of the evening. Life was changing and for the first time, she welcomed it.

**--o00o--**

_Tomorrow (Saturday): Where they talk about humanity, life altering instances, miracles. Also, he has surprising news for her._

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	6. Satyrday

_On Satyrday, the castle received a visitor._ _"We are the kindly ones. We are Erinyes, we are vengeance and hatred unending. We are your doom", they said. – Neil Gaiman, The Kindly Ones, Chapter 8 (Issue #64)_

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**Saturday**_  
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It was a busy Saturday evening with store brimming with lots of customers. She was running a few employees short and it was showing; she was completely stressed. She preferred being on the floor rather than at billing as she liked interacting with people who were browsing for books. She wasn't that good with people but she was great when it came to talking to people about books and helping them out to buy the right one. She had helped an elderly gentleman who was looking for books on biplanes when a voice stopped her.

"Need any help around here?" His voice sounded amused. He was surprised when she dragged him by the hand and shoved him inside a room at the back of the store. She gave him a T-Shirt that bore the name of her book store and looked at him expectantly. It tickled him to see her this way. He shrugged and changed his T-Shirt. She uttered him a hurried thanks and asked him to help around to whoever who needed help; be it her employee or any customer.

"Will I be paid?" He asked her smiling.

"Of course you will be paid. Since you owe me money for the book that you purchased last time you were here, I might have to dock your pay to cover that." She gave him a cheeky smile. He laughed.

For the next couple of hours they worked barely crossing each others path. But her being her saw him moving around the store as if he always belonged there. For a moment she was lost in the fantasy of him being there, working with her for quite a long time into their future. He was all around the store helping an employee to place the books in the right shelf. She saw him help a little girl to find the right book about dolphins. She grinned to herself when she saw a young woman make an obvious pass at him and him being completely oblivious to that; she wasn't sure of he was really that thick or he was simply ignoring that young woman. She thought it was the latter. He made an old lady blush when he kissed her cheek. By the time it was closing time for the store, she realized the level of her exhaustion. Even if it was the weekend, it tends to get hectic for her store with most book lovers unwinding in her store. After the last employee had left, she locked the front door and went around the store in search of _him._

She found him sitting on the floor with a book _Of Human Bondage – W. Somerset Maugham_. He was skipping pages and reading certain pages which caught his interest.

"Is that one of your favorites too?" She asked him breaking his concentration. Even in ordinary store uniform shirt, he looked pretty good.

"Not really, no. I find it a little too depressing for my taste. The protagonist keeps on moving from one tragedy to the next. It's possible that the storyline is very much believable but when you find out that there isn't much going on for that man, it kind of becomes monotonous." She was actually surprised at his explanation. She had thought that he would be someone who would like a book which took a step closer to the world of hopelessness.

"The book is much more than that and you know it. This novel also depicts the author's view of contemporary society and art. It's about growing up and about the negativity that the protagonist shows through out the book."

"I think it is the negativity of the storyline itself which makes the protagonist lack any positive values. There is only so much a man can take. Don't you think so?"

"Maybe. Do you believe that tragedies in life can make a man strong?"

"How can anything that works on sanity make any person strong? Sure, when a man faces a tragedy, he would get accustomed to deal with the pain, suffering and trauma that would be associated with it, but he would be always broken. The only difference would be that he would know how to deal better than the others." They fell silent for a few minutes. He kept the book back in the rack and sat on the floor across from her. She was making invisible patterns on the floor with her finger. She was exhausted but strangely content.

"I observed that you play classical music in the store. Not many people do that and a very even would like that." He asked her.

"I think if music had any lyrics, then it would be distracting. People would pay attention to the lyrics and the voice that performs rather than the music that defines the song itself. And moreover, when you are looking at books, music kind of soothes you."

"So basically you play music without lyrics so that people play more attention to the tasks at hand which is buying the book, rather than the music itself. Smooth move."

"These days not many people enjoy classical music. I have nothing against contemporary music, but do I have problem in concentrating when I listen to lyrics. Classical music can be enjoyed while I am doing anything. And when I listen to _Four Seasons _by _Vivaldi_, it's hard not to get lost in that music."

"You love music a lot?"

"I enjoy listening to classical pieces. I listen to contemporary music as well but mostly alternate rock. Hey, you said you played piano as a child didn't you? Do you still play?"

"Yes, I do."

"I would love to hear you play for me."

"Sure. I don't play as much as I would love to given the fact that I had a very hectic job and I moved around a lot. But yeah, whenever I am in town or I visit my parents, I make it a point to play."

"Wait. You _had _a job? As in you don't have it anymore now?" She was astonished.

"I quit my job last week." He said it quite happily.

"Why in the world would you quit your job?" She was flabbergasted.

"I quit my job because I could not explain to myself why I was doing it in the first place. For the first time, I was being downright honest with myself and realized that no matter how much I love to travel and did my work very well but in the end I really didn't enjoy what I was doing. I spoke to each and every member of my family about my decision to leave my job. Apart from my parents, everyone thinks that I am being idiotic. I think they might be right to an extent." He said lightly.

"But you do have a contingency plan right?" She was surprised at his casual admittance.

"Yes. I am going to work here from now on." Now, she was speechless.

"Can I keep this T-Shirt?" He was looking like a little kid in toy store asking his mom for a new toy.

"Why do you want to work here?" She was curious about that.

"Because I feel like I am home. I truly enjoyed working for the past few hours. I think I understand why you were so obsessive about running this store. Amidst the chaos, you still find order of things." He patted his hand next to him signaling her to come and sit with him. She moved next to him without a word. He continued.

"Have you heard of _Joshua Bell_, the violinist? He owns one of the most expensive violins in the world. As a part of an experiment by _The Washington Post_, he played in a Washington metro station for three quarters of an hour. In those forty five minutes, he performed six difficult classical pieces. Out of a thousand people who passed by him, hardly a dozen stood by to listen and appreciate his music. If he is playing in a concert, generally people pay a hundred dollars or more per seat. But at that subway station, he made less than forty dollars."

"I have read about it."

"When I dissected my life, I realized that I have been one of those passerby; the ones who are so busy with their schedule with the sense of righteousness for perfection that they don't appreciate creativity when it is dancing right in front of their faces." He fell silent suddenly. She knew that he was contemplating and was organizing his thoughts. She allowed him to break the silence first and continue the conversation.

"The first time we met, which was a few months ago, it was one of those impulsive decision that made me rethink everything that I have been doing. I won't say that I changed my ways because of you; but you certainly influenced me enough to question my own ways. It felt nice on the first day when we spoke about books and childhood. After that, I was simply drawn to you, to your companionship and to this place." She rested her head on his shoulder at this point. Physical comfort spoke louder than the spoken ones.

"I just want a life now which I can direct the way I want and not because how I drive my business; preferably with you in it." He looked down at her. She just nodded. She didn't trust her voice to give a rational answer to him. She wanted to give her consent to his decision though.

"You can keep the T-Shirt." He burst out laughing. She just chuckled. She liked this, being there with him.

"My roommate thinks that you are miracle that my life has been waiting for." She rolled her eyes. He was grinning.

"Not to inflate your ego or anything but I think she might be right to an extent." She gently whispered. She didn't know why she said things before her mind had a chance to process whatever she was going to speak thoroughly.

"Your roommate thinks very highly of me. I hate to disappoint you both but I am here for my own selfish reason." She looked up.

"I have been a global soul for quite sometime; moving from towns, meeting new people everyday, taking decisions that would make or lose thousands of jobs, made me feel restless. So in reality, you were my personal miracle which finally encouraged me decide what I really want."

"Do you honestly believe in miracles?"

"No."

"No?"

"Miracles are like super heroes. They are present when the system or the society around us fails miserably and stumbles to operate on its own. It's a reflection of how humanity has lost against evolution."

"You are beyond weird."

"I loved and I still do love reading _Batman_. He is the mask crusader who doesn't really have any super power and relies on his own scientific intelligence, detective skills and athletic prowess. He takes up the responsibility for the society by being a vigilante."

"But _Bruce Wayne_ is super rich. He could have had his own mini army or a personal force which would help law enforcement to keep peace in _Gotham City._ But no, he wears a fancy suit and a cape, uses cool weapons and sullies his hands to do the dirty work. This shows that he doesn't trust any other people to do the job and so takes up the responsibility on his own shoulders. When you think about it, this is the utmost act of ego than any other deed." He looked at her in horror.

"_Batman _fought _The Joker_ single handedly and won." His eyes flashed. She burst out laughing.

"There, there little boy, there is no need to get violent." She was giggling now.

"I apologize." He sighed.

"You can be a business man who can change the direction of economy. You can be a man who can make or break future. But underneath it all, you are still a little boy who loves his super heroes and fantasizes about them."

"I guess you are right about that." He smiled at her and put an arm around her. She felt relaxed at this physical contact.

"I am guessing you like comic books, as in, the super hero kind."

"As a kid, I obsessed over them. I mean they were cool. I liked _Batman_ because he was the closest thing that a man can be. He had no super strength but was very intelligent. I liked that about him. As I grew older, my obsession moved a notch higher; towards graphic novels."

"Aren't they little violent? I have browsed through some of them and I find it very gory and definitely not for kids."

"Graphic novels are not for kids. They are stories for adolescents depicted in graphics. It's irritating how people mistake them for comic books."

"Refer me something. I haven't read even a single one of them."

"Really? Then you must read _The Sandman _by _Neil Gaiman._ When I was in college a friend recommended me to read his works. I am a huge fan of that series now. There are few issues which I always keep with me and I read them whenever I get sometime."

"Is it that good?"

"It's not the story that gives you a kick. It's the narration. There are hundred ways to come to an end. But the way this author does simply blows my mind."

"But what fun is it to read a story when you already know how it ends."

"We know that whoever comes to this world has to die some day but that doesn't stop us from living our lives, does it?" He had a point there.

"It's a story, not life. The satisfaction of reading a book comes from the way it ends. If I know who killed who before I read the story, then what point is there to read that thriller?"

"Maybe you should still read the story to appreciate the brilliance in which it is solved. Does knowing the ending more important than how that particular ending was achieved?"

"End justifies the means. So, why bother with the means when ending is known?" She was having fun talking to him. It was not an argument that they were having but a mere exchange of ideologies. In the past few meetings, each of them had voiced their differences rather subtly and sometimes even gently. But this conversation was different.

"We simply have to agree to disagree." They nodded at each other and gave each other a smile. She had a feeling that this wasn't the end of this conversation. In future they were going to have millions of such conversations where neither budged. And she couldn't wait for them.

"Come on; let's get you the first volume of _The Sandman – Preludes and Nocturnes_ and I will quiz you on that on next Saturday." He pulled her along with him. She rather liked this thing with him. Both of them teaching each other, reading new things, discovering new things about themselves, she really felt that he was what her life had been waiting for. But she wasn't going to say that aloud. Not yet anyway.

As they took one last stroll around the store, she realized that very soon, she would be with him every night to do that job. She liked that immensely. She saw that he was looking a little pale and slightly nervous. She stopped by the counter to pick up her already packed bag. She turned around to see him that he had changed to his street clothes and was nervously shuffling around.

"Is everything alright?" She asked him gently.

"Yes. Everything is fine." She shrugged.

"Will you have a cup of coffee with me?" He asked her, shuffling his feet. She was surprised at his actions. As far as she was concerned, he was the most suave guy she had ever met, extremely handsome and charming to boot. She could not understand why he would be nervous around a girl like her to invite for a cup of coffee. When she voiced her concern, he shook his head.

"It's easier to ask people out who are strangers or acquaintances. You know me little too well than anybody and that is enough for you to have a judgment over your decisions based all the conversation that we have had." He shrugged.

"Do you really think this much just to ask me for a cup of coffee?" She looked amused.

"Yes. Is that a problem?"

"Not at all. I find it rather amusing. Shall we then?" They were about to leave the store when he slapped his forehead as if he remembered something.

"I forgot something very important."

"What is it?" She looked around once more to check.

"Hello, my name is Edward." He gave her a crooked smile. She found herself smiling back at him.

"It's nice to meet you Edward. I am Bella." They shook hands and burst out laughing at the craziness of the situation in which they were in. It had taken six lengthy conversations in a bookstore to be where they were. On sixth day, they had revealed the last part of their respective identities and had truly become _them_.

"I think it's going to be wonderful night, don't you think so?" She nodded and walked out of the store and locking it behind her.

**--o00o--**

_Tomorrow (Sunday): An epilogue, a beginning, an ending, a conclusion, a deduction, a surprise and a gift; sometimes, end does justify the means. _

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Kindly read and review. Thanks to everyone who stopped by to read this story, reviewed it, added it to their alerts/favorites. Thanks a million!_


	7. Son’sday

_Author's note: I am a few minutes away from posting this story when I saw a review pop-up in my inbox. I thought I will reply to the reviewer in this post itself._

_**Mmgig85**__: I have been always told that a story should have a start, middle and an end; and something dramatic should happen to the characters while we are at it. In reply I have told people to go watch "Before Sunrise" and it's sequel "Before Sunset" to get an idea about how you can pull off a story with only two characters. So yes, this style of writing is influenced by those two movies. I had Alice in mind when I mentioned roommate. I think I mentioned once "her pixie roommate"._

_This is the end of this series. I hope to see you all again soon!  
_

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On Son'sday, they held their first funeral. – Neil Gaiman, The Kindly Ones, Chapter 8 (Issue #64)_

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**Sunday – An epilogue**

She wasn't sure if getting formally introduced to each other was an ending to a fantastic anonymous journey or a beginning of a new adventure with a man named Edward. Currently she was in that grey area where the stranger transformed to Edward. But after last nights events, which was drinking coffee till they were thrown out of the café, she found out that there were very little things that were different between the man she knew all this while to Edward. After coffee, they had parted for the night and he had promised her to meet at the book store next evening. Being Sunday, they were closing the store early and all the employees had already left. She lifted her head up when a cup of coffee and a muffin was placed in front of her. It was him, grinning at her. Even though she was expecting a visit from him, it still surprised her when he showed up.

"You had a busy day?"

"No, not really. But I did manage to finish _Preludes and Nocturnes _by_ Neil Gaiman _though." She said happily.

"So you are ready to move on." The statement was so loaded and both of them knew that. She had had a session with her roommate the night before and had come up with a list of pros and cons regarding pursuing a relationship with him. It was irrational and illogical because she had already decided that she would. But perhaps her inane need for validating everything that she did had eventually won out and had made her work on that list. It wasn't surprising when the pros outnumbered cons and her roommate telling her 'I said so' in a sing-song voice. She blamed her insecurities holding her back from being open about her relationship with him. It took her a moment to realize that he was actually waiting for an answer. It was time.

"Yes." He smiled at her. She decided that she would definitely get used to that.

"There is something I need to tell you though." His face held apprehension. He continued the next moment.

"There was a reason why I never told you my name. In the beginning it wasn't necessary. I liked what we had and I knew that things were going to get better. But there was an unexpected turn of events which made me decide." She nodded her head. She appreciated his honesty. She wasn't sure what he was confessing but she sure hoped that it wasn't something dreadful.

"My name is, Edward Cullen." He stared at her. She was waiting for him to continue but he didn't. There was something about the name. She felt a familiarity with that name. As if she had seen it somewhere and heard it somewhere quite recently. It took her few moments when realization dawned on her face.

"Cullen as in Cullen group of companies?" She questioned him. He nodded.

"Cullen as in my new business partner." It was a statement and not a question. He couldn't help but nod a positive response.

"For how long were you aware of this?" If the whole reason of him coming to this store in the first place was because of this business thing, then she was sure that her whole perception of him was going to change.

"You told me one day, remember?" She let out a breath that she didn't know she was holding. He continued.

"Please don't consider this as an act of pity. It's nothing like that."

"Then tell me what it like is then." Her tone was challenging but he didn't miss the underlying quiver in her voice.

"I have been working right out of college in our company. All my siblings are a part of that and it has always been a family thing. But that never meant that there was pressure on all of us to mandatorily take up a job in one of our companies. The life I led was exciting; there is no doubt about it. But when I retired for the day, I never felt satisfied with whatever I had been doing. I know, it sounds very self-centered but that's how it was." He looked disturbed. He continued his monologue.

"I told you once that this store, being with you felt like home. I wasn't lying that day. On that day it was simply a dream. But when you told me about the financial crisis, I had a plan to turn my dream into reality. You know what happened next. I wanted to come by and give you the good news myself. But I chickened out. Also, there were lots of formalities that I had to complete since I had decided to quit my job. So you see I did this elaborate planning for my own selfish reason only and you never really in the picture." He hoped she would buy his story. Even if there was no financial crisis, he would still quit his job and join here as her employee. His siblings had teased him mercilessly. They were quite happy that their brother had finally found something and someone who held his interest for this while but still thought that giving up a career like his was a little erratic.

"You are the weirdest guy I ever met." She threw her hands in air and started munching on muffin. He was surprised at her reaction. He had expected an angst driven lecture and perhaps some water works too but her casual acceptance threw him off the loop.

"Huh?" He wasn't feeling particularly loquacious at the moment.

"There are plenty of bookstores in this town. If you really wanted to run a bookstore, you would have had your people purchase one for you or even built a new one." He smiled.

"That, I could have."

"But you didn't."

"No I didn't. You bought only half of this store knowing that I would come as a part of package deal. You have a very twisted of showing people that you care about them." He outright laughed at her.

"Get used to it." He was feeling free of the entire dilemma that he had faced for the past few weeks.

"I am not sure if I can, I find your weirdness rather amusing. But I do find your honesty quite catching." He sobered at that. She continued.

"I didn't mean it as an insult. But really, in all our previous conversations, you have been quite truthful, weren't you?"

"I was. I was honest with you on the first day because I had absolutely nothing to lose. So being honest was easy."

"Being honest is always easy." He smiled and nodded at the underlying plea in her statement.

"I have read pages and pages of articles talking about truth and honesty, but no one really talks about the price of being honest. Being honest need not be being truthful. If I tell you that I lied to you yesterday, then I am being honest. But being truthful is much difficult and the price is much costlier than one would expect. In the given social construct, one cannot be truthful. I do not agree that it is possible to utter the truth and expect that being truthful is the greatest virtue. If a man cannot empathize for another man, be it by lying or by deceit, then no amount of truth could bear the cost of comfort."

"I agree there is a price for being honest, but don't you think there is a price for being dishonest too? You can give a moment of comfort by being dishonest but that can also turn into a lifetime of discomfort. Don't you think so?"

"It's a probable outcome."

"But I guess you are right. In everyone's life a time comes when we need to make a choice; to be honest or to be a good friend. I have chosen to be a good friend most of the times." They fell into companionable silence.

"Are you happy about the choices that you have made?" He asked her.

"I know that I made the right choice when I opened the door for you on that raining evening. I was contemplating between hiding in stock room and calling cops."

"Calling cops? You thought I was a stalker or something?'

"Yes." She laughed at the memory. It seemed like a fairytale. She voiced it.

"Did you ever get the feeling that whatever we had and had been going through is some kind of a modern fairytale?"

"A poor beautiful girl who has everything to lose meets a handsome rich guy and then there are fireworks. After ups and downs, tears and laughter, they are finally together. After that they obviously lead their life happily ever after." He didn't bother to hide sarcasm in his voice. She rolled her eyes and started locking up the store for the day. They had decided to take a stroll and since being Sunday, she had closed the store quite early. After walking for few minutes in silence, she continued the conversation.

"Almost every story would seem like a fairytale if you have the right perspective. Fairytales take a shot at relationships that are complementary; the ones where opposite attract."

"No two people are similar in this world. So technically, every pair is made up of opposite people."

"I meant opposite in terms of social construct. As in one of them being rich and the other stark opposite?"

"That's a little prejudiced point of view." She stared at him. He looked quite happy. He also looked as if he was making up points just to argue with her. And she was fine with it as far as they were in rational boundaries. He was playing devil's advocate just to annoy her. She actually found herself enjoying immensely.

"The best part about fairytales is that they have happy endings."

"Fairytales also ends with an assumption that the prince and the princess are going to be happily ever after."

"Every relationship has that assumption, isn't it?" He smiled at her gently.

"Yes, they do. Do you know why?" She shook her head. Even if she had some idea, she wanted to listen to what he had to say.

"Because that's what makes them going. People run behind the illusion of being happy in the future that they forget what they have in their present. We cannot blame them for that because they are doing everything they can in the present to keep their future secure and happy. But how can future be strong when present in which they are living has too many cracks and flaws?" She thought about it for moment.

"So what's your plan?"

"There is no plan and that's the plan."

"Go with the flow?"

"Yes. Isn't it better to be honest with each other and live our present fully rather than planning and working for a future which might never exist?"

"I like this plan." She grinned at him.

"Say, there is this one thing that I really like about fairy tales though." She raised an eyebrow at that.

"The prince and princess kiss in the end." She could feel a smile growing on her face mimicking his.

"And since you mentioned earlier that what we have is some sort of a modern fairytale, I think we should continue the tradition." When they came up for air, she found his eyes sparkling.

"I think we have a good shot at happily ever after." She laughed and nodded her acknowledgment.

_And perhaps, they did live happily ever after._

**--o00o--**

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**_Kindly read and review! Thanks for everyone who stopped by to read and review. Also thanks to everyone who added this story to their list of alerts/favorites. Thanks a million._


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